Dear Dumb Diary Book 1 Novels & Stories

‘And this is Deb. ‘Where are you from?’ he asks. He looks confused. ‘Your dad gave us your number and address,’ Avantika says. ‘Actually, we wanted to know something from you.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘We found a diary,’ she says and pauses dramatically. ‘It’s of a friend of yours from school. We wanted to know something about him.’ ‘Diary? I don’t get it,’ he says. The look on his face tells us that he thinks we’re two crazy people.

Dear Diary, Hi. It's Gabriella. This is the first time I've kept a diary so excuse me if this turns out awkward. I decided to write because something weird happened to me last week - until now actually - and I badly needed someone to confide in since I don't have any friends.

Nanny Rita said it contains some cute stuff from her high school days – a phase in her life that brought her so much trauma. She breathed deep before opening the bag. It contains old slum books and a diary with broken lock. She smirked thinking that her mother could have forced to open it. She must be disappointed to see nothing juicy about the things that she wrote there. Her younger life was boring and predictable until it wasn't. In fact, each page of her diary contains almost the same events. As she randomly went through each page, she noticed a paper inserted within its pages. She almost dropped the diary upon seeing that paper from way back. It's still obvious that it was once cru

---------------- Dear Diary… Why is it that these boys just won’t listen to me? They seem to think my visions are not serious. But why would they happen if they didn’t mean something? If they weren’t going to happen? To me, that makes no sense. If they won’t listen, I will go and do something about it. But I need to try and make them listen because they are more likely to be able to help than I am. I am so clueless as to what to do to help. I need to get them to listen. Argh! My brain is frazzled right now, worrying so much for my friend. ----------------

I flipped the page of my notebook, leaning down to grab my textbook from the door beside my chair. And that’s when the idea struck. Slowly, deliberately, I let the book slip from my fingers. It hit the floor with a soft thud. “Oh—" I bent down immediately to pick it up and the classroom suddenly felt very quiet. Very still. I didn’t rush. Instead, I took my time reaching for the book, my skirt shifting slightly as I moved. A risky move. A deliberate move. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then— Jeff cleared his throat sharply.

my head is still filled with this insane images and I didn't need some boy problems now the locker room was empty when I got there, perfect just what I needed , silence. I sat down slowly, my hands trembling slightly as I opened my bag. the diary was still there, staring at the cover, the bright colors, the stickers filled it front and back, the pink, purple, blue, white, red, all the fucking colors you can think of, it was her, literally and metaphorically her, it was supposed to be filled with adventures and names of friends but instead it corrupted with one persons name, it's so sickening how someone turned something so bright to something so dark, my hands tightens around the book , tear

"For a second there I genuinely thought you were a vampire." Caelith stared at him. "That was your first thought." "I had several thoughts. That was the most coherent one available at the time." Zara made that sound again. The one that lived in the same postcode as a laugh without ever quite being one. Caelith pressed her hand over her face. And for the first time since the beach house, something in the room felt almost light. ______ From tomorrow it's a chapter daily with the exception of Sunday which no updates still appears.

“You gonna keep teasing or actually show me the full manuscript so I can do my job?” Damien smirked and got up, grabbing his laptop from the desk. He set it on the coffee table in front of us and opened it, pulling up the document. We leaned in together, shoulders touching, his scent wrapping around me as we scrolled through the pages. His writing was filthy, detailed scenes of strong hands gripping hips hard enough to bruise, tongues licking sweat from abs, thick cocks sliding raw and deep while the bottom begged for more, cum dripping down thighs. Reading it with him this close had my dick throbbing, leaking a little into my jeans.

I was in disbelief that Henry could actually have a thing for literature. Checking through the books, I noticed a black diary which laid under the books and it got me curious. I don't know why, but having to read Henry's diary became an urge that I could not resist. I picked up the book and flipped it's pages opened. All the stuff he wrote bored the hell out of me and I was about giving up on the diary when I saw a recent write up and it had my name written. Dear Diary It's been long since I last opened you. I guess life issues could actually make one forget a friend. Anyways, lots have happened over the past few months. I have hit my ninety nine mark on the register of girls I will fuck bef

I contemplated whether to check out the book, but I saw another person just leaving without even glazing at the librarian who was busy doing his own work. ~~~~~ Back in my room, I sat down on the settee and opened the book. The pages had taken a brownish hue, conveying its age. Surprisingly it was more like a diary. I frowned. Whose diary was it? The name had become smudged. Even then I carefully flipped the page. My eyes halted on the first line of the first entry. ‘Mother is scary. She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t love father. She wants to kill us….’